


Going Down Swinging

by BackslashEcho



Series: A Moment That Changes A Life When... [28]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Abandonment, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Charades, Depression, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Mild Language, Muteness, RWBY Relationship Week, Sign Language, Surprise Kissing, Volume 3 Spoilers, Volume 4 AU, mute character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackslashEcho/pseuds/BackslashEcho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything that she's lost, can Yang hang on in the name of making a difference...or for the promise of revenge?</p><p>Originally a Baked Alaska oneshot crafted for RWBY RS Week 2016. By popular demand, the fic is now an AU.<br/>VOLUME 3 SPOILERS; VOLUME 4 AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> NEW A/N: As noted, this chapter originally stood alone as a Baked Alaska oneshot. Lots of people then asked me, across various platforms, whether this was going to continue as an AU now that we aren't getting new episodes on the regular. And if you're reading this, the answer is, apparently, yes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang is alone in the house, with her thoughts. Until she isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Wednesday (17 Feb 2016)’s Randomly-Generated Names_ : Yang Xiao Long / Neopolitan (Baked Alaska)
> 
>  **A/N** : Originally created 17 February 2016. It’s RWBY Relationship Week again on Tumblr; the challenge is to take two randomly-selected characters and explore their relationship, whether that be romantic, platonic, parental, mentor-apprentice, sibling, antagonistic, or what-have-you.

Yang heard the door close behind Ruby. She’d pretended to be asleep when Ruby looked in; had barely spoken to her little sister in months, despite Ruby checking on her every day, knowing it hurt her and not being able to stop. She watched the red cloak fade into the distance, alongside the remainder of JNPR. Soon, all she could make out was Ruby’s hood, Jaune’s hair, Ren’s coat, and Nora’s skirt. Then, nothing.

The light was off, like it usually was, so that Yang could close the curtain and not have to focus on the sight of where her right arm just…ended. Truncated. Like her ability to fight, and with it her resolve. Like her hold on her so-called partner. Like Pyrrha’s whole life.

She heard Dad calling up the stairs for Ruby, but didn’t bother telling him that she was gone. He’d find out soon.

Sure enough, he walked by a moment later on the way to her room, then bolted back past, presumably upon finding the note that Ruby most likely left. It didn’t look like he’d even glanced at Yang to check if _she_ was still there.

Yang clenched her remaining fingers in the blankets as more useless tears rose, and felt phantom pains shoot through the hand that wasn’t there as the sheets on her right side failed to contract.

Wasn’t she stronger than this? Strong enough to keep going; strong enough to hold her team together?

Staring at her single hand, and the tied-off bandage marking the stump of the other arm, bitterness spiralled out of control again. Without an arm, how could she hold anything? Half of Ember Celica was gone. Her primary attacking and defending limb, both missing. Her balance was shot, especially for fighting or landing or the myriad other things a Huntress was required to do. 

She couldn’t hold so much as a pencil anymore. She couldn’t prevent Weiss from being taken away. She couldn’t keep Ruby from going on her self-appointed quest. She couldn’t stop Blake from running. Hell, even with two hands, she couldn’t stop her mother from leaving.

So what was the point in trying at all?

Yang’s gaze meandered around the room, as she’d done so often in the past months, memorizing each tiny detail, before she paused on the corner opposite her bed. Her brain seemed to be moving slowly, and she certainly couldn’t muster the effort to get up and check more closely, but something about the way the shadows fell in that corner seemed…off.

She just stared at it, not really focusing on the problem—not even really convinced it wasn’t just in her own head—but after a moment, she saw a slight shimmer. Huh. She’d been right. She couldn’t muster the energy to be worried or excited about an unexplained phenomenon though, or the motivation to react in the slightest when the shimmer came again, then shattered like glass to reveal the tiny, tri-colored woman who’d worked for Torchwick.

Yang closed her eyes as Neo’s heels clicked slowly across the floor. She’d wondered if somebody would come try to finish the job. At least she figured Neo would make it quick; she’d had no hesitation in preparing a killing blow last time, and would have succeeded if not for… 

But that rescue wasn’t coming again. And Yang supposed she had just been living on borrowed time since the first one.

Neo’s umbrella concealed a stiletto dagger; since Yang was sitting still, she could probably expect the stab to come in the eye or the throat, or maybe straight through the heart.

After several minutes’ silence, Yang opened her eyes again. Neo stood beside the bed, empty-handed and arms folded as she stared critically down at Yang. Her parasol was propped in the corner in which she’d appeared.

“What?” Yang croaked, not having spoken aloud to anyone in days.

Neo tilted her head, then furrowed her brow and made several gestures with her hands. Yang stared at her blankly, and Neo tapped her foot irritably before repeating the gestures.

“I don’t know your signs,” Yang said tonelessly. “Don’t know what you’re asking.”

Neo gestured as though raising a hood and swinging a scythe, then put a hand to her brow and peered around as if looking for someone.

“Ruby’s not here,” Yang said flatly. “She left to go keep fighting.”

Neo repeated the scythe gesture, then raked a hand over her forehead as though slicking back her hair.

“Qrow? I don’t know. He’s probably following her.”

Neo’s eyes raked over Yang, lying in bed. She raised an eyebrow.

“No, I’m not going.”

The eyebrow rose higher. Then Neo tossed her hair behind her, drew a finger across her left eye, and mimed raising a sword, followed by her ‘ _Where?_ ’ gesture again.

“Weiss went back home to Atlas.”

Now Neo raised her hands to her head and tilted them this way and that, like…cat’s ears.

“I don’t know where Blake went,” Yang said, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes and her voice. 

But Neo was too sharp. She leaned closer and gestured at Yang laying in bed again.

Yang shut her eyes and turned away. “No, I’m not getting up. I’ve got nothing to contribute anymore.”

The impatient tapping of Neo’s foot eventually drew her attention back, and she found the small girl standing with her hands on her hips. She gestured at Yang again, and then spread her arms, as if to ask ‘ _Why?_ ’

“Why do you think?” Yang snarled, raising her stump. “You think I can fight like this?”

This time, rather than mime, Neo just mouthed a single word: ‘ _Practice_ ’.

Yang’s shoulders slumped, and she stared at her bedspread. “Why bother. Beacon’s lost. Vale’s lost. _We’ve_ lost. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Neo’s foot began tapping again. This time, when Yang looked up, Neo slapped her.

“I don’t c-”

Neo slapped her again, and Yang felt her temperature start to rise as her Semblance activated in response to her being struck.

“I. Don’t. Care.” She gritted out.

Neo made a sharp gesture as if to say, ‘ _So there_ ’.

Yang blinked. She’d been expecting another slap, not… “You’re saying you don’t care?” she asked slowly.

Neo folded her arms again and nodded.

“Then why are you even here?”

The charades went a little longer this time. First a hand swept across her face, then a gesture like putting on a hat, and a motion like leaning on a cane. Then she paused, glancing up at Yang.

“Torchwick?”

Neo nodded. Then she flapped her arms and snapped her head forward with a biting motion.

“…got eaten?” Had Ruby mentioned something about that? “he’s dead?”

Neo rolled her eyes up and let her head loll, plainly miming ‘ _dead_ ’.

“So what?” Yang asked. “Not like that was our fault. We didn’t release the Grimm into the city.”

Neo nodded harshly, her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t understand,” Yang said after a moment. “If you didn’t come here to kill me…” Neo pointed at her parasol over in the corner, then displayed her empty palms. “Then what the hell do you want?”

Neo pointed at Yang, then the floor beside her.

“ _Why?_ ”

Neo withdrew her Scroll and waggled it, then held in front her mouth, miming speaking as she tossed her hair. Then she paused, looking at the Scroll in her hands. She scowled, and snapped it in half, tossing it in the trash can.

“The woman from the broadcast? She gave you that?”

Neo glared, apparently aggravated that Yang had followed the wrong train of thought. She gestured with her hands across her chest just below the shoulders, then across at an angle just below her hips. Then she walked a few exaggeratedly mincing steps, looked at Yang over her shoulder, and opened her hands over her eyes. 

And then drew a thumb across her neck.

“That woman…she’s the one who caused this?”

A firm nod.

“And you want to kill her.”

Another nod.

“For Torchwick?”

Yet another nod.

“But why me?”

Again the series of charades stopped, and Neo simply mouthed the words. ‘ _Because you understand_ ’.

“Understand what?” Yang said defensively.

Neo raised a skeptical eyebrow. She gestured around the bare room, up at the shut-off light, then at the door leading to the rest of the empty house. She pointed out the window at the road that Ruby had taken. She pointed at Yang’s missing arm.

“What am I supposed to understand?” Yang repeated, feeling her temper coming back.

Glaring again, Neo opened her mouth wide, so that even in the oblique light, Yang could plainly see the missing tongue, and the scarring running down the back of her throat. When she felt she’d made her point, she closed her mouth again, and her lips formed the word, ‘ _loss_ ’.

Yang scowled. “Then _you_ understand,” she hissed. “Why I’ve just been laying here. You think I don’t _want_ to care? I can’t help that I’m fucking broken and can’t do anth–”

Neo slapped her again, and Yang felt her eyes turn. Her left arm shot out and seized Neo’s collar, dragging the girl down to her level. Neo was smirking broadly, apparently at finally getting a reaction out of Yang. ‘ _You care_ ’, she mouthed.

Yang just held her there, an inch away, breathing hard and trying to control her rage.

And then Neo leaned forward and kissed her.

It was so sudden that Yang didn’t even think to react, and her Semblance died down in shock. She saw Neo’s eyes narrow, though the girl didn’t pull away. Instead, she forcibly deepened the kiss, biting down hard on Yang’s bottom lip, and the heat started pouring of Yang in waves. She wasn’t sure herself if or when she started kissing back, but by the time Neo broke away and straightened up, both of their lips were swollen and bleeding.

She yanked the blankets off Yang’s legs and took a step back, bowing grandly.

Yang glared even as she swung her legs out of bed for something other than a trip to the bathroom for the first time in months. “I still hate you.”

Neo grinned, licking her bitten lip, then jerked her head toward the parasol in the corner.

Yang ignored her, crossing to her desk. She got out a piece of paper, and fumbled with a pen for a few moments before a small, gloved hand snatched it out of her own and pushed her aside. Neo held the pen over the paper and paused, looking up at her, eyes switching colors when she blinked.

Yang took a breath, then dictated: “‘Dad. I’m sorry for the last few months. Ruby was right. We have to do _something_. I’m not quitting. Yang.’”

Neo scribbled rapidly, but stopped before the final word and offered the pen back to Yang to sign her own name. Taking another deep breath, she took it and scrawled out the four letters as best she could with her left hand. 

When she finished and looked up, Neo had strolled back over to the corner where her umbrella stood. She picked it up and half-turned, extending a hand back to Yang.

Yang picked up the yellow wristlet lying beside the note on the desk, and after a moment’s fumbling, managed to get her hand through it. She twisted her wrist in a motion as familiar to her as breathing, and her remaining Ember Celica deployed around her hand. She clenched her fist, and was surprised to find it steady.

She took Neo’s hand, and heard a sound like shattering glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ORIGINAL A/N** : This one got heavy. Still, in a couple places, I want to point out that this is entirely Yang’s POV, and Yang is…not in the best place mentally right now. She’s failing to notice some things the way she normally would, and is drawing conclusions based on her own despair rather than rationality. (For instance, she’s under the impression that Tai didn’t even bother to look and see if she was still there, when in fact he made sure of that first even as he sprinted by.)
> 
> Personally, I've never really been into Baked Alaska, because they just didn't seem to have any common ground that you could point to in canon. For me, a ship needs more than just foe yay to get off the ground (or, ‘out to sea, I guess), and all the interaction we had between Yang and Neo was them fighting without any communication. This is the first time that I've thought they might actually (canonically) have a leg to stand on.


	2. Tabula Rasa

“You’ll have to tell me how that works sometime,” Yang groaned, holding her arm stump tight across her churning stomach.

Neo snickered silently before strolling away.

Yang looked around as she struggled to her feet. They were back on the docks in Vale. If it wasn’t the same pier where Blake and Sun had fought torchwick, it was similar enough as made no odds. Pushing down, as ever, the renewed nausea that rose at the thought of her _former partner_ , Yang followed Neo along streets still strewn with rubble, shattered glass, stripped bones, and dried blood, none of which was helping settle her stomach.

“So where are we going?” she asked the shorter girl, hoping to distract herself.

Neo, wearing her usual smirk, simply pointed ahead of them, as if to say _this way_.

“How very helpful,” Yang grumbled, keeping her temper with effort. Not only would her frustration attract Grimm before long, but it was bound to make no impression on Neo’s amusement. On the other hand, the memory of the illusionist’s actions the _last_ time Yang had gotten fired up didn’t help the heat in her cheeks.

It wasn’t that she liked the petite girl—point of fact, she was still furious over that kiss, and she hadn’t forgotten either that the cheeky little bitch was also an unrepentant criminal who _tried to kill her_. But Yang supposed she could admit to herself that Neo was, objectively, attractive. And it _had_ been months since Yang had gotten so much as a hug, even from Ruby. 

Which was Yang’s own fault, of course, for pushing her sister away, but it was a long time for someone who was usually very physically affectionate. When not wallowing in depression, at least. And she’d lost her dominant hand, and, well, a girl had _needs_ , dammit… 

Neo glanced back at that exact moment, smirking like she could read Yang’s thoughts. Yang coughed, hoping she wasn’t blushing.

“What?”

Neo jerked her head at the store she’d led them to, the words THE SCROLL BRIDGE still legible despite the broken glass and loss of power, the painting of a suspension bridge stretching from the T to the E.

“A Scroll store?” She asked, dubiously. “You realize there’s no one to sell us anything, right?”

Neo just gave her a deadpan look before kicking the door in, showering the street with dust and causing Yang to jump back with a curse. By the time the debris had settled and Yang took her arm from across her eyes, Neo was already stepping daintily back out onto the street, with a bag dangling from the crook of her arm. She was also holding two new Scrolls, which _beep_ ed in unison as they each registered the other as a contact. Neo prodded at one screen for a moment before tossing it to Yang. Surprised, Yang managed to catch it. She flipped it over with difficulty, and held it up to see the _New Contact_ screen still displayed.

Contacts (1): Neopolitan

An instant later, the Scroll buzzed in her hand as a message arrived. Yang looked up sharply, but Neo just waved at Yang’s new Scroll, still typing away fiercely on her own. Scowling, Yang tapped the message.

— We needed clean Scrolls. Don’t plug this into any unsecured system around here or you might pull down Cinder’s ‘Pawn’ worm.

Yang blinked, momentarily forgetting to keep scowling. There was another buzz, and second message appeared below the first.

— You still need to learn to Sign, by the way. It’s much faster than this.

“Whatever,” Yang grumbled. “Let’s go before any Grimm show up.”

_Buzz_.

— Why? Feeling a little hot under the collar?

Yang glared furiously at Neo, whose eyes were sparkling with mischief.

_Buzz_.

— Temper, temper… 

Throwing up her half-arm, Yang slid the Scroll into her pocket and stormed away from Neo, stopping at the street corner to both watch for Grimm and to get herself under control. Poorly though they might get along at the best of times, she was stuck with Neo for the present. Plus, much though it rankled to admit even to herself, Yang knew that she was no match for Neo at present. She’d spent weeks out of commission, and still had to adjust to her…new weapon loadout.

But she could. She could start again—could get stronger—and Neo would get what was coming to her. Yang clenched her fist determinedly. She _would_.

She glanced back to see where Neo had gotten to, and nearly jumped in shock. She was less than a foot away. Yang settled for glaring again at the smaller woman, albeit more coldly than before.

Neo’s expression didn’t change, she simply twirled her parasol and moved past Yang, as if merely out for a stroll. Still frowning, Yang fell into step behind her.

They raided other abandoned stores for clothes, backpacks, camping supplies, food, and other essentials. There seemed to be surprisingly few Grimm about, but when she asked, Neo just shrugged.

— Maybe they got scared of whatever Red did to that thing up on the tower.  
— Maybe they just moved on because there’s nothing left here to kill.  
— Who cares. We won’t be here long.

Glancing momentarily up at the frozen shape of the enormous Grimm perched atop Ozpin’s tower, Yang considered Neo’s ideas as they wound their way deeper into the Industrial District by the river, just East of the piers. Before the Fall, it was the kind of neighborhood where she would never have let Ruby go alone. Now…well, that hadn’t exactly changed, she supposed. She ruthlessly crushed the rush of guilt she felt at the thought of her sweet sister, off wandering the wilderness with Jaune, Ren, and Nora. At least they hadn’t given up, like Yang… 

Neo led the way unhesitatingly to a specific door in an alleyway, carelessly lifting a flowerpot and retrieving a keycard, which she slotted into her Scroll. The corresponding door opened with a creak of disuse, and a single bulb inside flickered on, revealing a studio flat that contained a bed, a sofa, and five or six large, wooden crates.

“The hell are these?” Yang asked, kicking one of the crates. They were stacked carelessly and didn’t seem to have as much dust as the rest of the furniture.

Neo held a fist under her chin, then twisted her wrist sharply and waggled her fingers.

“Yeah, I still don’t know your signs,” Yang snapped.

_Buzz_. _Buzz_.

— That’s ‘Dust’.  
— Which is what’s in the crates. Roman skimmed some off the last few hauls, hoping to skip town soon. With the amounts that he always brought in, Cinder never noticed. 

Yang blinked. “Cinder?” she repeated.

_Buzz_.

— Cinder Fall.  
— The bitch behind all this.

Cinder Fall. Yang’s grip tightened on the Scroll. Now Yang had a name. She was the one responsible; her, and that… Adam Taurus. But of course, remembering Adam brought up memories of her arm, and of Blake, who had left her behind, broken, without a word…

Yang came sharply back to the present when Neo flicked her nose. Yang’s eyes refocused, and she glared by default at the illusionist. Neo seemed unconcerned, merely pointing at Yang’s Scroll. Yang glanced down, and was surprised to see more messages on screen.

— Get some sleep. Our ride won’t be here till tomorrow.

“Ride to where?” Yang asked, distracted again from her mental turmoil.

_Buzz_.

— Atlas. We need resources and new allies. And you need a new arm.

“And how the hell are we supposed arrange that?” Yang growled, not happy with the implication that Neo might be jerking her around. “Vale’s CCT went down, which means _all_ inter-Kingdom communication is cut off. How are these Scrolls even working right now?”

_Buzz_.

— There’s no CCT Network, so they’re just operating off a local wireless to talk to each other. They’ll be fine once we reach Atlas, as long as we don’t bring Pawn with us.  
— And there are other ways to travel.

Neo was smirking broadly, obviously enjoying keeping Yang in suspense.

_Buzz_.

— You’ll see.

Yang took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. “How are we supposed to _pay_ for passage to Atlas? I don’t think there’s exactly a ferry running, and unless you robbed the register at that Scroll shop, we don’t have any money.”

_Buzz_.

— Of course I robbed the register. And there’s cash stashed here anyway but we won’t need it for transport.  
— We’re trading the Dust for that, since our ride will need a startup fund for their new business. After that, we’ll both have to work for our keep. 

Gritting her teeth, Yang forced herself to ask the next question. “And…my ‘new arm’?”

_Buzz_.

— Atlas has the best prosthetics. Duh.  
— Just look at Ironwood.

“I am **not** going crawling to Ironwood!” Yang snarled. “That self-righteous bastard decided I was ‘dangerous’, when your prick friend Mercury had prosthetic legs all along!”

_Buzz_.

— Not my friend. He was Cinder’s.

“YOU WERE ON HER SIDE!” Yang roared, temper and temperature rising together. “I know what I saw in that tournament match, and _you’re the damn illusionist_!”

_Buzz_.

— That wasn’t illusion. That was delusion.

_Delusion!_ Words momentarily failed Yang; she was nearly apoplectic. Was Neo actually suggesting Yang was crazy, like Ironwood had? Like Qrow? She’d thought he was joking, thought he was on her side—. But no, that wasn’t fair, Qrow had stood up for her. He was gone now, though. Maybe even dead, like Ozpin. Ozpin had believed her, even though his hands had been tied and he’d had to keep her confined to her dorm.

Neo flapped a hand at Yang, waving impatiently at the Scroll and the message she’d just sent. 

— Delusion. Emerald’s Semblance. The inverse of mine. She changes how one person sees the world.

Yang froze. Emerald? Had Ruby said something about her, these past months? She couldn’t remember… But hell, Emerald was Mercury’s partner, so Yang couldn’t exactly be surprised that she was in on it too. And Delusion…that was a terrifying Semblance.

_Buzz_.

— Calm down!

She was still breathing heavily, Yang realized in a distant sort of way. And still furious, though she felt rather detached from it now. But she could tell her eyes were still red, her hair still floating, her Aura still flaring. Huh. Neo looked nervous for some reason, her eyes flicking toward the crates beside Yang. Oh. Pouring out Aura near this much Dust was a bad idea. Why was that again? Right, volatile reaction. Shit.

With a tremendous effort, Yang brought her temper under control, feeling her hair settle back down, though her eyes stayed red. It was all just too much, she couldn’t deal, she _couldn’t cope_ , and every new thing she learned from Neo just made everything **worse**. 

_Buzz_. Yang prayed for patience as she looked down again.

— You still need a new arm.

“I mean it, I’m not going to Ironwood,” Yang gritted out. It wasn’t much better than the previous topic, but damn it, she ought to be able to control herself better than this. Rushing in a blind rage was what had cost her—. “He was a total prick to me, and besides that, Qrow never trusted him.”

_Buzz_.

— Then we’ll have to go underground and get it illegally. That’ll cost more, and take longer.  
— But hey, it’s on your head. You’re the one that’s gonna have to pay for it.

“Then why’d you even come get me?” Yang snapped.

_Buzz_.

— Because I thought you would want a shot at Cinder.  
— I’m not your babysitter. I’m getting you to Atlas. After that, we’re equal partners.  
— Got it?

Yang glared for another moment before she sighed, frustration abruptly dying and being replaced by the apathy that had been her constant companion for the past twelve weeks. “Fine.”

Neo narrowed her eyes at Yang’s suddenly flat tone, but didn’t comment. Instead, she waved a hand at the sofa, slipping into the bed and tossing a pillow and blanket at Yang’s head. She waggled her fingers at Yang before clapping to shut the light off. Yang didn’t bother saying good night.

* * *

The blanket had been scratchy, thin, and too short for her, though thankfully the night wasn’t terribly cold despite the turning of the seasons. The couch was lumpy and uncomfortable, and when she’d laid down on it, she kicked up a plume of dust—plain, ordinary dust, fortunately. She’d shifted and twisted, trying to get comfortable, only to discover that even after atrophying for months in bed, her shoulders were too broad to fit comfortably. And on top of all that, she’d been sleeping in the same room with _Neo_. None of which was conducive to a good night’s sleep.

It was almost a relief when she saw dawn’s light poking through the curtain, and heard Neo’s near-silent feet hit the floor. There was a tiny sniff from that direction, then footsteps. Yang wondered what to expect—would Neo wake her immediately? Play some kind of joke to piss her off? Sneak out to leave her here, in some bizarre, elaborate trap?

Instead, she heard stockinged feet padding across the floor, a different door shutting, and the hiss of a shower. Yang opened her eyes, staring at the dirty paneled ceiling. Maybe she was being a little too paranoid. Neo had…at least _appeared_ to be nothing but honest about her reasons for bringing Yang with her. She’d answered all of Yang’s questions yesterday, and was making plans to help her, all the while maintaining a cattiness that made it clear she wasn’t trying to become real friends. They didn’t get along, but they didn’t have to, in order to get to Cinder. This was an alliance of convenience, at best, but at least Neo seemed to be respecting it.

Could she do the same, Yang asked herself. Her fist clenched, the ratty blanket knotting around her hand. Over the last day and a half, her emotions—apparently Missing In Action for months—had been staging a return, but it seemed like she just kept oscillating between a dull emptiness and incandescent rage. There…used to be more to her than that, right? The memories seemed fuzzy, any feelings that should have accompanied them muted as the rage flickered out again and left her feeling…hollow.

Fuck. Even anger was better than this.

The water in the next room stopped. A few moments later, Neo stepped out, fully-dressed in some of the replacement clothes they had picked up yesterday, though her jacket was left open. Her hair was tied back too, and didn’t seem very wet—she must have foregone washing it. As she made up her mind to take her own shower, Yang figured she’d do the same; drying her hair was best done naturally, and they probably didn’t have time. She sat up, stretching her stiff shoulders, at the same time that Neo strolled back over to the bed and snatched up her Scroll.

_Buzz_.

— Don’t be long. Our ride will be ready in half an hour.

Dropping the Scroll without bothering to reply, Yang took to the bathroom herself. She cranked the water all the way to scalding and let the steam envelop her. It burned, but she was no stranger to heat. Barely ten minutes later, she was out and dry and struggling to get into new clothes. Everything fit—she hadn’t fallen _that_ badly out of shape—but even after months, maneuvering with half an arm gone hadn’t gotten easier. It was going to be a while before she was willing to fight with clasps or belts or zippers that came apart, so she stayed simple: brown cargo pants, orange tank top, tan jacket that she could tie off under her right elbow. She tugged on her usual socks and stamped into her boots, then wriggled her fingers through the collapsed Ember Celica.

The room they’d slept in looked almost the same when she emerged, Neo sitting casually on the bed, Yang’s Scroll on the couch, both their backpacks waiting by the door. Except that the crates of Dust were gone, and next to Yang’s Scroll was a second wristlet, a match to the one on her left arm. Anger flared and died in almost the same instant, and feeling more empty than ever, Yang just shoved the wristlet into her bag before pocketing her scroll and heaving the pack over her shoulder.

Neo vaulted up and crossed the room in a blink, snatching up her umbrella and clicking off the light. In the dark, she laid one hand on her own pack and the other on Yang’s wrist. With another _shatter_ they were abruptly on the same pier as yesterday, accompanied by the crates that had vanished from the flat.

* * *

Yang stared from the crates to Neo, who was adjusting her gloves.

“You can move _things_ with your Semblance, not just people,” she stated, half-questioning.

Neo rolled her eyes and nodded, as if it were obvious. Well, maybe it was.

“Why the hell did we walk all over town yesterday, and to that dump last night, then?” Yang demanded.

Sighing, Neo pulled out her scroll. _Buzz_.

— I’d never been there, it wasn’t in sight, and it’s not exactly easy.

Yang frowned, thinking that over, when her scroll _buzz_ ed again.

— He’s early. Look tough; do NOT make it look like we are negotiating from the lesser position.

“Even though we are?” Yang asked, scowling, even as she heard the hum of a Dustplane engine drawing nearer.

Neo scowled right back at her. ‘ _Especially_ ,’ she mouthed.

A moment later, Yang’s hair was whipping in the wind as a Mule swept overhead and laboriously settled onto the pier, blocking their way back to the street. The side split and lifted away, and two men jumped out. Both were very tall and broad, but even then, the larger of the two topped the other by almost a foot.

As they approached the two women, the smaller—though that term seemed ill-fitting for someone who was taller and heavier than Yang—seemed to hang back, looking torn. He wore a black suit and red tie, and his hand twitched toward the axe on his back as he glared at Yang over red-lensed sunglasses.

The bigger man stopped a step ahead of his colleague and folded his arms. Almost seven feet tall, he towered over both of them, glowering down at Yang, who felt her lip curl in equal dislike before she forced a reasonable facsimile of her usual cocky grin onto her face. Of _course_ Junior Xiong would have hit the ground running, and Yang momentarily wondered if Neo knew about Yang’s history of squeezing the man for information on the underworld.

“What the hell, Neo,” Junior growled. “This wasn’t our deal.”

Neo flashed several of her handsigns, much too fast for Yang to even have a chance to follow, but Junior seemed to understand perfectly.

“No, it’s not the same thing!” he barked. “I agreed to transport you and your cargo in exchange for half the Dust. Blondie here never entered into negotiations.”

Several more signs.

“She is _not_ ‘cargo’. And what the hell do you mean ‘we can use her’? She’s a Huntress-in-training!”

Neo rolled her eyes before responding, apparently sharply.

“‘Common enemy’, my ass,” Junior scoffed. “She’d love just as much to turn us in for coordinating with those lunatics, and never mind that we’d have died for refusing!”

Yang tuned out his whining—Junior was a pushover, and despite Neo’s warning, Yang didn’t see much chance of being pushed around during negotiations. If he wanted to talk about Yang like she wasn’t there, she could ignore him just as easily. Instead, she eyed his apparent right-hand henchman, who seemed a cut above the usual rabble if only for being smart enough not to draw his weapon immediately. He tensed, looking nervous, and she supposed he was probably one of the mooks she’d beaten up when she raided the club.

Neo was still signing so fast that Yang couldn’t tell when one sign flowed into the next, and Junior looked near apoplectic. Well hell, Neo wanted to negotiate from a strong position, right? Yang turned her attention back to the man and clenched her fingers, causing her knuckles to crack audibly.

“What’s taking so long, Neo?” she asked, making sure to sound friendly enough toward the tiny woman, but bored and dangerous with it.

“The adults are talking, Blondie,” Junior snapped. Neo gave Yang a steady look; not warning, but not encouraging either. Nothing to lose, then. 

“Where?” Yang shot back. “All I see is a couple of gorillas in cheap suits.”

“It’s been a while. You’ve lost some weight, I see,” Junior sneered, his eye on her empty right sleeve. “We’re just having a bit of a disagreement—see, Neo seems to be under the impression that you’re coming with us to Atlas as a partner. And I just don’t think you’re going to have our best interests at heart.”

Neo cocked an eyebrow this time, and Yang decided to go for broke.

“You know, call me crazy Junior, but I believe I told you to call me _sir_.” She stared him down, and after a moment, he blinked. Ha. She still had it. “But I think we can bury the old _hatchet_ , Junior.” She flicked her eyes to the axe on his bodyguard’s back. Neo, beside her, covered her mouth as if giggling. “So are we going to have a nice, strong business relationship going forward? Or do I have to make you cry again?”

Junior’s lip curled in absolute hatred, before he resolutely turned back to Neo. “Eighty percent.”

Neo’s hands flashed.

“I am not staying at half,” Junior growled. He ground his teeth for a moment, then spat, “Sixty. And keep this bitch out of my hair.” He turned and stalked off without a second glance, yelling into the Mule at his henchmen to start loading up the Dust.

Yang folded her remaining arm across her stump. “He’s gonna keep holding a grudge,” she said bluntly. Not that she particularly cared. Junior was sometimes useful as a contact, but he wasn’t much of a threat to even a trainee Huntress.

_Buzz_.

— So don’t do something stupid like trusting him. Paranoia keeps you sharp.

“Tch.” Yang scoffed. “This is gonna be a long flight.”

_Buzz_.

— True. But on the other hand, you didn’t exactly look like you had a lot else to do.

Yang cocked an eyebrow. “‘On the other hand’?” she repeated scornfully. “Seriously? Your pun game is even worse than Junior’s ‘lost weight’.” She scoffed again.

By this time the crates were all loaded, and the Mule’s engines started revving high for a vertical takeoff. Neo strolled forward and seemed to skip up into place. 

Yang followed, trying to leap up beside her, but lying in a bed for months had done nothing to help her adjust to her new balance, and she started to tip back out. She flailed for something to catch herself, when Neo’s tiny hand shot out and grabbed hers, yanking her away from the edge. This also resulted in Yang being pulled up flush against Neo, who blinked up mischievously from Yang’s cleavage.

Hearing a snicker from one of Junior’s goons, Yang jerked away, scowling, and went to sit as far from everyone else as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N** : Well. You guys asked for it, so here it stands. This is the much-demanded continuation of the oneshot originally titled “Lost”. (Which is now the first chapter of this story, as you see.) It’s a bit pokey, but sometimes a chapter just has to end.
> 
> Yang’s clothes roughly match her proposed Volume 4 design, courtesy of the RWBY panel at RTX.
> 
> Neo’s ‘Dust’ sign is a slight variation on the ASL sign for ‘dust’ (A hand held up to the chin, fingers waggling). Hopefully what I ‘invented’ isn’t a separate sign itself—I’m only in the research stage for ASL, so it easily could be.
> 
> Qrow is obviously not dead, and most likely neither is Ozpin, but Yang doesn’t know that, does she? She’s been in bed for months; the only people she’s seen are Ruby and Taiyang, both of whom were rather discouraged from talking to her.
> 
> For a tentative update schedule, sneak peeks at the next chapters of my stories, or to chime in on new projects, check out my Patreon.
> 
> See you on the other side.


	3. Axe And You Shall Receive

The flight to Atlas was _very_ long, but thankfully boring. After a half-hour of sulking, Junior moved up to sit in the cockpit, kicking the co-pilot out. Neo, smirking, strolled over to plop down in the seat beside Yang, who did her best to ignore the obnoxious woman, continuing to stare out the window. But the endless, unbroken expanse of sea left very little to distract her. Finally she shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at Neo.

Neo was simply watching her, looking vaguely amused. Seeing Yang’s attention on her, her hands rose and made two signs -- this time, ones that Yang actually recognized from class at Beacon. Signs for Huntresses to coordinate in situations where they couldn’t speak. She pointed at Yang, then signaled _Ready?_

“Ready for what?” Yang sighed.

Neo motioned as if grabbing something off her outstretched hand, and moving it to her forehead.

“…learning?” Yang guessed.

Neo clapped an affirmative, though her eyes looked a bit sardonic.

“Fine. Not like we’ve got anything else to do.”

More sarcastic applause. Yang rolled her eyes.

The lesson that followed was a bit halting, as Neo insisted Yang learn to make the signs herself in order to ‘speak’ the language, and refused to take out her Scroll, even when Yang got completely lost. There were some general rules to grammar that she managed to pick up because they mostly mirrored the world’s common language, which Vacuo had invented and gifted to the world after the Great War. This must have been developed alongside, or at least modeled directly after Common. Atlas had given the Remnant the CCT; the capacity for inter-Kingdom communication. Vacuo had provided the the means to use it, and these days nearly everyone spoke some dialect of Common. 

Learning a new way to communicate — and silently at that — definitely held some appeal, but a large part of Yang’s frustration came from the fact that there were a good number of signs which called for two hands, and which she had to approximate as best she could. Neo was a patient, but demanding teacher, and while a part of Yang could objectively admit she had learned a good deal and would probably remember it, she also desperately wanted to strangle the tri-colored girl.

Finally Yang’s frustration mounted, and she threw her arms up before making a single, very obvious, and very rude hand sign herself. Neo snorted, rolling her eyes, but seemed to allow for a break. She closed her eyes, still smirking slightly, and Yang went back to staring out the window.

Just like the night before, her anger flickered out as fast as it had come, and just left her feeling listless. Why was she even here?

…Because sitting around was getting unbearable, especially knowing that Ruby was going. While Yang couldn’t go with her, couldn’t drag down the remainder of JNPR, it also wasn’t her nature to remain still. If Neo hadn’t shown up, Yang would have liked to think, she would have gotten back on her feet soon, even if it was difficult. Dad had been pushing her for weeks, after all. As for Neo’s method of intervention…well, she was determinedly _not thinking about that_ , wasn’t she? Heat tried to rise to her cheeks again, but she forced her mind to other things.

And now? She was miles away from where she’d been. “Hmph. Literally,” she grumbled under her breath, still looking out the window.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of Neo’s eyelids flick back open. With an effort, Yang looked back at her. “What’s the plan in Atlas?”

Thankfully, Neo pulled out her Scroll, accepting that even with a few hours’ crash course, Yang wouldn’t be able to understand a complex explanation. Yang took a moment to adjust her Scroll’s settings, so that it wouldn’t vibrate for a new message while she was already looking at it.

— The little tantrum you forced out of Junior was both hilarious and useful.  
— He only took sixty percent of the Dust, and I was expecting him to haggle much higher than that.  
— So, I’d say you’re entitled to at least ten percent of what’s left.  
— You can probably sell your share to Junior anyway, make a head start on saving for a prosthetic.

Yang frowned. “Twenty percent. I thought we were ‘equal partners’.”

Neo scoffed.

— Cute, but you had nothing to do with acquiring the product.  
— But I’ll make it 15 percent, because I’m just so nice.  
— Say ‘Thank you, Neo.’ That looks like this.

Yang glared at her. She held her palm up to her lips, then extended it, a sign a little like blowing a kiss. Knowing Neo wouldn’t let it go until she did it, Yang reluctantly did so.

“Yeah, thanks, whatever,” she added. Neo snickered inaudibly. “What’s your next move?”

— The Axe Gang is looking to set up shop in Atlas, you probably guessed.  
— I’ve made it clear to Junior that I, and now we, will work WITH him, not FOR him.  
— So we might be called on for muscle sometimes, but as freelancers.

“I’m not exactly down with armed robbery,” Yang growled, real anger licking the edges of her apathy instead of impotent frustration.

— You really have no idea what the Axe Gang does, do you?

Yang shrugged. “I just pressed Junior for information sometimes,” she admitted. “That’s why I knew him. And then I wrecked his club and beat up all his goons. That’s why they’re afraid of me.” One of the goons in question snarled in her direction, overhearing that. Yang glared right back at him, fanning her anger until she felt her eyes turn. The thug blinked first, and looked away.

— Funny, but maybe try playing nice.  
— You ARE going to have to work with them sometime, most likely.  
— Anyway, aside from information trading, the Axe Gang specializes in loansharking, migrant trafficking, and falsifying documentation.  
— The club, which I expect he’ll reestablish, is otherwise entirely aboveboard.

“And I care why?”

— Who knows, maybe he’ll need a bouncer.

“And lodging?”

— Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that…Roomie.

Yang’s lip curled for an instant as disdain flashed through her, the strongest thing she’d felt at all lately before it was gone. “I want my own room.”

Neo pressed both hands to her chest, as if mortally offended, batting eyes suddenly full of crocodile tears as they alternated between pink and brown.

Yang just rolled her eyes.

— Hmph, you used to be fun. What happened to the wisecracks and puns, Little Dragon?

Anger still came easier than anything else, and Yang’s hair instantly began to glow. “Never call me that again,” Yang hissed.

Neo blinked, both eyes pink and apparently curious why that had elicited such a strong reaction, but after a moment she gave a short nod. Under the still-simmering rage, Yang was a bit surprised by the easy acquiescence, and waited for the other shoe to drop, but Neo again surprised her by changing the subject.

— We could probably stay in whatever place he finds for his workers, but that doesn’t really appeal to me.  
— Market value for the Dust we’ve got left, minus ten to twenty percent for the black market, minus another ten percent for Junior to sell it for us at a good price.  
— Should be plenty for an apartment. It’s Atlas, so it’ll be small, but we’ll fit.  
— Well, I will, anyway.

Neo paused, giving Yang’s frame an exaggerated glance. Yang stared back, unimpressed, though her Semblance continued to settle back down.

— I’m guessing you’ll need some free weights too.  
— That won’t be THAT big an investment, and you’ll need them anyway once you get the prosthetic, so it’s not like it’s a bad one.

“All right.”

Apparently content with the silence, Neo closed her Scroll once more. She glanced out the window herself before shrugging and shutting her eyes once more. An instant later, there was a shimmer, and Neo vanished, appearing in the next seat over in an identical pose.

Yang blinked, looking from Neo’s old location to the new. That…made no sense, and it hadn’t made the same sound as her teleportation. Tentatively, she reached out for the apparently-empty space opposite her, where Neo’s knee had just been. Her questing fingers met something that she couldn’t see, and to her left, Neo’s eyes opened, staring straight ahead, as if Yang was still in front of her, even as Yang turned to the Neo she could actually see.

“Why?” Yang asked curiously.

Neo held her wrists crossed at about shoulder level, fists closed, and moved both smoothly down. It looked a bit like she was handcuffed. So…bound? Attached?

“Habit?” Yang guessed, and Neo nodded, looking pleased. Yang supposed it made sense, from a paranoid point of view. Neo was a criminal after all, and a dangerous one — Uncle Qrow had always said that the biggest difference between a Huntress and a criminal wasn’t the training, it was that one looked out for other people, not just herself. Yang glanced at Junior’s men lounging around the front of the plane, each of them still occasionally shooting her mutinous looks. Well, Yang was something of a criminal herself now, she supposed. Best to get a head start on the paranoia. “Do me, too? Please?” She asked Neo aloud.

Neo waggled her eyebrows and licked her lips suggestively, and Yang realized what she’d just said. There was no point trying to deny it; Neo wouldn’t let it go either way, so she just gestured at the empty seat to her own left. “Please?”

Huffing a little at not getting a reaction, Neo nodded, and a moment later Yang saw another of herself sitting in the seat in question. She looked her doppelganger over, eyes skittering away from her right arm. “You’re better than a mirror.” She glanced down. “I can still see myself, though?”

_Buzz_. Yang raised an eyebrow. The illusion of Neo’s hands were empty, and had apparently gone back to sleep. So, it wasn’t necessarily a copy of what Neo herself was doing. Frowning thoughtfully, she checked her Scroll.

— You can see yourself, but they can’t.  
— Being totally invisible is a great way to trip over things, trust me.

Collapsing the Scroll once more, Yang slipped it back into her pocket and repeated the ‘thank you’ gesture from earlier. She shut her eyes and leaned back in the seat. She still wasn’t completely comfortable, but she hadn’t slept much the previous night, and Neo had passed on much better opportunities to kill her, so despite herself Yang was starting to trust the tiny criminal. Certainly more than she trusted Junior, though that wasn’t much of a milestone. Neo…was going to be her partner now. Yang’s stomach twisted as that thought sank in, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Atlas was all snow and glass. 

At least, at first glance — a closer look showed there was a clear distinguishing line between the Hunting Academy dead center, the military compound which more or less surrounded it, and the city itself that radiated out from there. The high-rises to the South and West appeared to be residential, the former significantly older-looking than the latter. In the North the high-rises were instead taller and narrower, housing businesses and laboratories, while the East held broad, squat factories.

There was an enormous mansion on the Northern end of the West district, which would have been recognizable as Schnee’s even if their company logo weren’t plastered all over it, in various degrees of blatancy, ranging from tacky to gaudy. The emblems extended into the businesses and labs to the North district, marking which belonged explicitly to the Company rather than those controlled through subsidiaries.

The South district, where they were apparently headed, looked distinctly less wealthy than the West, though it wasn’t exactly a slum. The people there were also overwhelmingly human, with a small, apparently segregated Faunus population bracketing the furthest East and South, the better to access the factories in the lower East and the mines that extended miles South, back toward the significantly-poorer former capital city, Mantle. 

Junior apparently had his eye on a small high street in the far Southeast of the South district, separating the human-populated areas from the Faunus ones. There were several shops and businesses owned or run by Faunus, cheek-by-jowl beside human-run ones, and neither race was particularly surprised to see the other in that part of town — basically as ‘integrated’ as Atlas was capable of being. He was buying a location for his club in cash, and renting out an entire nearby apartment building to house his henchmen. From both locations, he would start to spread his little empire once more. 

In theory, anyway. No doubt this was already the turf of some gang or another, so Yang had a feeling that things would probably start to get nasty after sundown. Then again, Junior’s gang war wasn’t really her problem. 

Unless he paid her, she supposed, and then wondered if she should be concerned at how carelessly mercenary her thoughts seemed to have become. Whatever. For the moment she was sitting here for lack of anything better to do. Neo had disappeared almost as soon as they touched down, leaving a simple instruction that did not, in any way, make Yang want to punch her less.

— Play nice while I find an apartment.

Despite the ongoing glares from several of Junior’s men, she had simply planted herself on a crate by the door, staring at the floor in front of her. After a single look of his own, Junior had called his gang back to order, having them knock out extraneous walls and lay the groundwork for the DJ’s booth and the dance floor, as well as building shelves along the wall for the bar. As with Neo, he seemed willing to let bygones with Yang be bygones, albeit somewhat more hostile ones.

Yang’s contemplation of the concrete floor was interrupted by a pair of feet stopping in front of her — this time not wearing cheap black dress shoes but what appeared to be steel-shod white high-heeled combat boots. One pointed toe tapped impatiently, and Yang slowly looked up, past the red-laced boots, past the ruffled white combat skirt that reminded her achingly of Weiss, to the far less-classy makeup job on the furious face of the girl in front of her. One of the twins Junior employed as his _actual_ bouncers, for people who weren’t intimidated by the rabble of henchmen. The other twin, dressed in red, was a few steps back, scowling but also looking a little reluctant.

“What?” Yang asked shortly.

The one in front of her tossed her long, dark hair angrily. “‘What’?” she repeated. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want?” Yang tried, but apparently a longer question wasn’t what the enraged woman was looking for.

“How about, what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she screeched.

The twin in red winced at her tone, glancing at Junior, who didn’t look up. “Melanie…” she tried, but her sister ignored her. 

“You’ve got a lot of damn nerve coming anywhere near us after wrecking up our club twice, bitch,” Melanie spat.

“Junior knows she’s here-” her sister started to say, but Melanie cut her off.

“I don’t care, Miltia! If you don’t want to fight, fine, but I’m not letting this bimbo waltz back in here like nothing happened!” She gave Yang a scathing look, lingering on the knotted arm of her jacket. “I doubt she’ll put up much of a challenge anymore,” she added venomously.

A year ago, Yang wouldn’t have let the insult go unanswered. Hell, she probably wouldn’t have waited this long to start a fight. Now, all she could bring herself to do was raise an eyebrow. “You call me a bimbo, wearing _that_?” she asked, as scathingly as she could manage.

Miltia, who was admittedly wearing essentially the same thing in a different color scheme, scowled harder, green eyes narrowing with dislike. Melanie was a different matter, however. Yang’s trained senses shouted at her to move, and she jerked away, but couldn’t react fast enough to avoid the backhand from the armored bracer on Melanie’s left arm. Yang managed not to fall, stumbling backwards off the crate and raising a hand to her throbbing lip. There was no blood thanks to her Aura, but a sucker punch wasn’t much of a way to start a new working relationship. 

But it was a certain way to kickstart Yang’s Semblance. “Nice shot,” she said, drawing herself up again as her body temperature started rising. “I’d give you a hand, but I don’t have a spare anymore.” She clenched her fingers hard enough to make her knuckles crack. “Wanna hear the sound of one hand clapping?”

Melanie’s lip curled, and she charged. Miltia, meanwhile, looked willing to stay out of it, and Junior was waving at his henchmen to not interfere. So much the better, she wouldn’t have to worry about being outnumbered. Yang pivoted to place her remaining arm toward her opponent, twisting her wrist to deploy Ember Celica. She was light on Dust, and definitely wouldn’t be able to reload one-handed, so she was going to have to conserve a lot more than she was used to. Twelve shots; she had to make them count.

While Yang was strategizing on the ways she would have to fight differently, Melanie opened up much the same way as their last fight, charging into a flying dropkick to immediately bring the blades on her heels into play. Yang caught the attack on her gauntlet, the impact jarring her enough to raise her Semblance by another notch, and giving her the strength to shove Melanie back even with just one hand. 

Melanie landed light and jumped again immediately, this time firing multiple kicks. Yang dodged the first two, and again caught the third on Ember Celica, using the force to spin on her heel and deliver a back-fisted strike to Melanie’s chin, which snapped the girl’s head back. Melanie dropped backward, planting a hand on the ground, and kicked out hard, catching Yang in the chest. Yang staggered, and felt her hair start to float as her Semblance kicked up even higher.

Despite everything, Yang was actually starting to enjoy herself, the adrenaline of a real challenge helping to burn away the apathy that had paralyzed her for so long. It was difficult, too, because she was so out of practice — and clearly Melanie had been preparing for this opportunity for a long time. Man…how long had it been since she'd had an honest to goodness _fight_?

Yang charged this time, not waiting for Melanie to right herself properly. Instead, Melanie kicked into a backward handspring, returning upright in time to chamber another kick aimed at Yang’s throat. Skidding to a halt, Yang managed to pause just in time to let the blade miss. Melanie followed the motion through, grinding her heel on the floor before firing off three more kicks in rapid succession. Yang blocked with her knee, wrist, and knee again, before attempting to kick back. Melanie slipped around her easily, scoffing, and nailed Yang in the forehead.

Surprised, and Semblance finally nearing maximum capacity as her Aura started to genuinely drop, Yang arched her back to roll with the kick — and was struck with a moment of panic as she tried for an instinctive handspring like Melanie had done earlier, and realized halfway through that she wasn’t going to land properly. She’d always been able to count on flipping and tumbling to redirect her momentum; it was an ingrained part of her style that was now all but useless. 

She twisted desperately and managed to turn her landing into a sideways tumble, barely making it back to her feet before Melanie was on her again. The next few minutes were simple maneuvering, as neither of them landed a hit, both probing for an opening that they couldn’t find. While Melanie had improved a lot — as she’d proved with that last hit — Yang had gotten much stronger at Beacon. She’d also fought Mercury, who was much more talented at using the same style, even if he was holding back. That made Melanie an ideal practice target for getting ready to take on the silver-haired jerk.

With that infuriating thought on top of her filled Semblance, Yang feinted a sweep kick, which Melanie fell for, jumping into the air. Aborting the motion, Yang rose into an uppercut, firing Ember Celica as it landed for maximum impact, not unlike she’d done to Miltia in their original fight. Melanie crumpled in midair, her intended recovery ruined. Yang jumped then, duplicating as best she could a spin kick Mercury had used on Coco. Melanie crashed to the ground, groaning, and Yang brought her heel crashing down…onto the floor right in front of Melanie’s nose. 

“Mel-!” Miltia started forward, her claws sliding into place, but stopped abruptly as Neo appeared in front of her, the bladed point of her weapon extending through the tip of her umbrella, held at Miltiades’ throat.

“Girls, enough,” Junior called sharply, and all the tension went out of both twins. Yang looked at Neo, who simply raised an eyebrow back, before retracting her umbrella’s blade, planting the tip on the floor, and leaning on it, not unlike Roman used to do with his cane. Yang sighed, feeling her hair settling down, and reached down to offer a hand to Melanie.

Melanie, struggling to rise, froze and glared up at her distrustfully.

“Look, I’m not asking you to like me,” Yang said shortly. “I’m not planning to apologize and I don’t expect you to, either. But that was good practice, and believe it or not, I needed that fight. So…thank you.”

Still scowling, Melanie accepted the hand up, though she didn’t say anything. She stalked back over to Junior, Miltia falling into step behind her, though the latter glanced back at Yang. The usual hostile scowl seemed cut with something else. Curiosity?

_Buzz_. 

Sighing again, Yang pulled out her Scroll.

— This is what you call playing nice?

“Up yours,” Yang said easily. Neo tittered silently.

— I’m not even gone an hour before you’re fighting someone else.  
— Are you trying to make me jealous?

“Oh, I’ll fight you, too,” Yang growled. 

Neo huffed another laugh.

— Not even five minutes and you’re ready to go again?  
— Maybe you should take both Snowy-White and Rosy-Red next time.

Unable to facepalm while still holding the Scroll, Yang threw her head back and exhaled hard through her nose.

— Why do I put up with a fun-killer like you?

“Why do I put up with an _actual_ killer like you?” Yang shot back.

— Do I get under your skin that easily?  
— Now that makes a girl feel special.

Taking a calming breath, Yang forced her voice to remain steady. “Did you find a place for us to stay or not?”

Neo collapsed her Scroll and just waved Yang to follow in answer. Yang glanced back once more as she left. Junior was gone from behind the soon-to-be bar, but both twins were still watching her carefully.

Yang left without meeting their eyes.

* * *

They only walked for a few minutes before paused, holding up her Scroll. Yang withdrew her own, and Neo held hers close, until they both _beeped_. Yang then tried the scanner of the brownstone in front of them, which chimed and unlocked.

Neo led her to a third-floor walkup, which opened at a swipe from the smaller girl’s Scroll, and revealed a small, shabby, but furnished two-room apartment.

Yang made to shut the door, but Neo stopped her. Shrugging, Yang went to inspect the rest of the apartment. The common space was small, mostly taken up by the kitchen and a counter to eat at. A short hallway past it led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. A wide pantry in the kitchen hinted at an in-unit washer/dryer, which was more than she had expected, frankly.

She turned back to find one of Junior’s suited goons in the doorway with a large brown-paper bag. “Here ya go, Miss Neo,” he said, voice surprisingly soft. “It’s prolly not very good, but we ain’t had time ta open the kitchen yet. We will by nex’ week an’ we’ll getcha better grub.” He bowed.

Neo nodded, taking the bag, and waved merrily as the guy turned and left. She shut and locked the door before moving over to the counter, rapidly unpacking the bag to reveal a stack of takeout boxes. Curious, Yang opened a few, finding fried rice, lemon chicken, and wonton soup. None of it was amazing, but these were what Yang had grown up on whenever Summer hadn’t felt like cooking and her dad had risen to the task. It clearly wasn’t homemade and didn’t look nearly as good, but the smell was close enough to bring the memories rushing back, and she had to shut her eyes to stop tears from welling up.

Reaching blindly for chopsticks, Yang opened her eyes again to find Neo had already broken a pair apart for her. Yang took them and started eating mechanically, propping her Scroll up in front of her.

— Can’t wait until they get around to opening their own restaurant.  
— Junior’s standards are way higher than this.

Yang’s eyebrows rose. “Junior runs restaurants too?”

— Best takeout in Vale. Formerly, anyway.

She blinked. “What the hell _doesn’t _he do?”__

— The Axe Gang is best known for odd jobs, but Junior tries to stay away from the kidnap, arson, murder trifecta. Too easy to trace.  
— They’ve done a bit of racketeering in the past, but that’s more his father’s style.

“You know a lot about it,” Yang said dully.

— Junior and Roman were pretty good friends.

Yang’s lip curled. “As much as he could have friends.”

Neo frowned.

— You think criminals can’t have friends?

Yang paused. For the first time she’d ever seen, Neo actually looked angry. Not homicidal, but genuinely upset.

“I…didn’t give it much thought,” she admitted slowly. “He never made it seem like he cared about anyone or anything other than his image and his ‘work’.” Her fingers sketched quotation marks around the last word. 

— Ah, so only you’ve dealt with circumstances outside your control.

Neo’s ‘tone’ was biting even through text.

— You’re not the only one who’s lost family.  
— Some don’t handle it even as well as your old man.  
— Some don’t have a loving stepmother appear immediately.  
— Some don’t have extended family to fall back on.  
— Some lose everything they have when a loved one dies, can’t provide for their kid, and end up on the wrong side of the law just trying to put food on the table.

Neo shut her scroll, crumpled her napkin, and went to put the leftovers in the fridge. Yang didn’t move, watching her, but Neo’s face was impassive again. 

After cleaning up, Neo sat back down and began signing, which Yang could barely make out from the lessons hours ago. _Practice every day._

Yang tiredly signaled, _Affirmative._

Neo drilled her on handtalk for another half-hour before calling it a night, giving a huge fake yawn. _Good. Finished. You, room, left,_ she signed, pointing with her chin toward the hallway, indicating the bedroom on the opposite side from the kitchen. _Sleep well._

“As well as I can in a cold, strange bed on the other side of the world,” Yang grumbled, but she nodded anyway as Neo slipped out of the kitchen and down the short hallway ahead of her. 

The smaller girl strolled to what was presumably her own room, across the hall, and Yang couldn’t help but realize that for the last few steps, Neo’s walk had become more of a saunter, her petite hips swaying noticeably. She paused in the doorway to look over her shoulder at Yang, winking one pink eye and giving a sultry smile.

Yang slammed her door and threw herself into bed, pretending she couldn’t hear Neo’s huffing laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ugh. Most of this was done weeks ago but I just couldn't pull things together the way I wanted to. If the ending feels abrupt, it's because it was bloody hard to close out. The chapter as a whole feels underweight to me, but this is everything that needed to happen in the this chapter, so whatever. Writing is hard.
> 
> I think I’ve actually turned around on the idea of writing this as a Baked Alaska story. Which is to say, I think that I’m going to do so, now. The reason for changing my mind…is a secret. Ha. CuriousRavenclaw and I had a neat headcanon for Neo that I’m going to use in this story. Don’t think I’ve seen it anywhere else, so as far as I know this will be unique.  
> I’ve edited the A/N for chapter one (sorry if you got an extra notification), just to remove the statement that it WON’T be Baked Alaska. The story itself hasn’t been changed.
> 
> I also happen to be job-hunting (while still employed this time, fortunately), so if you know of any Technical Writing jobs in the Austin, TX area or that I can telecommute…let me know?
> 
> If you'd like to chat with me, you can pop into my Discord server at discord dot gg slash ABfg74C
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Special thanks to my patrons Gade and Ran.**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Complex Allegiances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086881) by [whoneedsapublisher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoneedsapublisher/pseuds/whoneedsapublisher)




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